Tuesday, February 11, 2003

I've spent my life fighting entropy, but I suspect it's getting the best of me. Despite my entropy-coping skills (obsessive housecleaning, organization, and exercise, plus a job that you have to have OCD to even qualify for) I'm starting to feel a long slide into laziness. I'm just really fucking tired.

This happens every February, I have to remind myself. I start to not care that the toys aren't organized into their appropriate baskets, that the bills are piling up, that the dog has a rash. But come spring I'm back to sleeping four hours a night and filling every minute with... well, minutiae.

My sister said to me the other day, "Entropy is my friend." It may have been the most shocking thing I've ever heard. Entropy is no one's friend! It is the inexorable slide towards death.

But then I keep thinking maybe I'm wasting my life, the small amount of time I have, on entropy-abation.

Call the roller of big cigars,
The muscular one, and bid him whip
In kitchen cups concupiscent curds.
Let the wenches dawdle in such dress
As they are used to wear, and let the boys
Bring flowers in last month's newspapers.
Let be be finale of seem.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.

Take from the dresser of deal,
Lacking the three glass knobs, that sheet
On which she embroidered fantails once
And spread it so as to cover her face.
If her horny feet protrude, they come
To show how cold she is, and dumb.
Let the lamp affix its beam.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.